


1776

by TheTimelessChild0



Series: Omovember 2020 [29]
Category: John Adams (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Friendship, Humor, Omovember 2020, Omovember 29, Urination, at work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0
Relationships: Thomas Jefferson & John Hancock
Series: Omovember 2020 [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987816
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1776

Thomas Jefferson was a sensible man. He woke up at dawn, got plenty of exercise, and had tea instead of coffee. Much to the frustration of his patriotic compatriots. This day, however, was different.

Today, they had called an early meeting. So early in fact, that Jefferson had to run home and put on his work coat and attend to it at once. Meaning without a trip to his quarters. And within his quarters were a water closet. Which he always used after his morning jog.

While it was true that he’d had less time to consume as sizeable amounts of water as normal; that did not stop his nether regions from giving notice in the _middle_ of the proceedings. Thomas crossed his legs, leaned forward, all without looking down, lest he be tempted to put his hands somewhere other than the armrests.

However, his arms soon fell naturally into his lap. They were quickly moved to his knees, pressing down gently.

A sigh escaped his lips. Hancock cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Are your legs sore from the run?” he suggested.

“Perhaps,” Thomas stated, neither confirming nor denying the possibility.

* * *

It was highly fortunate that the lawyer was rarely expected to state his mind..though Adams did occasionally try. When the moment arose, Jefferson found himself speaking far more general than he would otherwise; though he made sure to cover it up with a firm approval of a recent victory. His intelligence often meant that casual optimism held higher regard than even the encouragement of Washington could fortify.

There was one thing he hadn’t foreseen, or taken into consideration. The drafting of the Declaration was a relatively recent result of the battle for independence. During the deliberations surrounding its contents, he had argued incessantly with Adams _and_ Hamilton. Whom gracefully was not present.

But John was; and quirked an eyebrow at the altered vocabulary. He knew the younger man did not care much for conversing in the assembly, but either was distressed somehow; or tired. Both seemed equally plausible. 

“Is everything quite alright, Thomas?” he inquired softly.

“Splendid,” Jefferson nodded, hands rubbing against each other on the table.

“I sense some crassness in your constitution, my good man,” Adams noted.

“There is no foundation for your concern, John,” Thomas stressed, stressfully.

“Very well,”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Do you need some water?” Hancock offered.

“I do not require sustenance, thank you very much,” Jefferson drawled, taking a cautious sip of what was left in his glass.

“Then what _is_ the matter, Mr Jefferson?” John desperately wanted to know.

“No single shilling is amiss, Cockerel!” Thomas insisted.

He had used a nickname that had come up during a particularly furious disagreement.

It was a genteel way to flip the man in question, an _ungloved_ finger.

“Oh really, then tell me why you look like you’re about to faint, or lose your breakfast,” Hancock rebutted.

“I need to use the privy,” he admitted.

“Is there any particular reason why you are sitting here then?” his friend quipped.

“I cannot simply excuse myself from the proceedings...not without cause,” Thomas explained.

“I think they will find your plight frightfully convincing,” Hancock pointed out.

“I will not be made a fool at these proceedings,” 

John rolled his eyes.

“Well, I’m sure they will find your resolve to wet yourself quite commendable,” he rebutted.

* * *

“Are you feeling warm?” Ben approached their desk. 

“Just a smidgen,” Thomas noted. He was indeed sweating from the effort of holding it in.

“The rowdiness is reduced by significant values, Mr Jefferson. I hardly think stepping out for some air will activate it at all,” he remarked, indicating the door to the outside.

  
“Quite,” Jeff conceded, sliding his chair out silently and departing from the open space.

He stretched his legs and adjusted certain parts of his waistcoat, to conceal the tugging on his turquoise tights. It was this time and place that _enlightened_ him to the fact that he had not an iota of an idea where the facilities where. It was hardly as if he could plug his privates in-between two barrels.

Cautiously, he opened the door he had sparsely since exited, just a crack. He knocked on the wall, ensuring that only Hancock would hear.

“Hello, yes, I was just wondering where I ought to go...to _go_ ,” he mumbled to his mate.

“Oh! I see. Strange, I’d assumed you’d...no matter. It’s in the little house behind this larger house. There’s a perfectly ordinary toilet inside,” John stated.

“How oddly reassuring that is. Of course, it’s in a ‘little house’, how absurdly apparent that must be to beings of less restraint,” Thomas quipped, waving goodbye with the one visible body part still inside the room.

General Washington turned from where he was standing to address the Almanack author, Franklin.

“Why do I get the feeling Tom is out there for other purposes than obtaining oxygen?” George groused, looking at his fellow Revolutionary.

“Because he is. Pardon me, commander, but did the war turn you blind? Surely, you can spot a man in the throes of _urgency_?” Dogood hinted.

“I believe I have not the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Washington replied promptly.

Ben hummed, seemingly having proven a hypothesis. “Did you or did you not observe Mr Jefferson changing the location of his left leg to rest underneath his right?” he prodded pointedly.

  
“As it happens, that I did,” the general affirmed.

“And what do you think that might try to treat?”

“Well, seeing as it is _him_ , I’d like to assert that his legs were restless, but he certainly seemed sufficiently spry at my arrival...although, his peculiar pauses in his diction, an aberration at least,” George thought out loud.

It was almost as if something had been occupying the gentleman, drawing attention away from more apt language. And Jefferson was sharp as a tack even after tragedy.

_What had been distracting him so?_

* * *

Thomas stared at his reflection, to ascertain whether his confidence had drooped off his face in the slightest. It had not. And a cursory glance at the feet established that no _adverse_ anomalies had dripped on his brass buckles.

With his internal organs satisfied for the time being, the Founding Father returned to the hall.

The first glance that hit him was from the General. He did not mind it as he sat down.

It was plain as day. The difference in his posture was impossible to overlook.

The actuality was, indeed, that Jefferson had not gone out for air. He had gone out to drive out the pain everyone endures in a plurality.

“Might it be wise to insert additional recesses, for relief and suchlike?” he bid the advice of Adams.

“Either that or I put forth a recommendation for the door to be permanently ajar,” John countered.

“I for once, am inclined towards an admittance of both practices, with some adjustment,” Benjamin voted.

“Let’s start by allowing him a chance to adapt to reality first,” Hancock added, effectively ceasing the debate.

The Virginia representative vanished repeatedly from Congress.

The End.


End file.
